


An Old-Hat Rivalry

by lunarshores (damichan)



Category: One Piece
Genre: Crazy Eights, Friendship, Gen, Manga Spoilers, Rivalry, The Strawhat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 17:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8022991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damichan/pseuds/lunarshores
Summary: Three times Marco met a different man wearing the straw hat, and one time he decided to follow it.





	An Old-Hat Rivalry

**Author's Note:**

> A project for the [One Piece Reverse Bang](http://opreversebang.tumblr.com/) and based on the absolutely gorgeous art by [vryagosa](http://vyragosa.tumblr.com/), which you can find below. 
> 
> A big thank you to [ImperialMint](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint) for hosting this wonderful event and betaing this for me!
> 
> Make sure to check out all the other wonderful projects as well!!
> 
> Some spoilers for the Totto Land Arc, so be warned!

[Art](http://vyragosa.tumblr.com/post/150325429219/three-times-marco-met-a-different-man-wearing-the) by [vryagosa](http://vyragosa.tumblr.com/)

It seemed like just a hat, plain straw, nothing remarkable, but Marco knew better. It was a sign. A sign that its wearer would be a pain in his ass. As time passed the ribbon grew faded from the sun and the sea, it acquired numerous scars where it had been mended after countless fights---that hat had seen more violence, more blood in the last 25 years than Marco had, he was sure---and Marco would put good money that it had been eaten more than once. With and without and perhaps by one of its owners.

It meant trouble, but it also meant fun. There was never a dull moment when that damn hat was nearby.

I.

The first time Marco saw the tattered straw hat, he’d been little more than a kid, though he’d thought he was anything but at the time. Roger had been larger than life, even then, before he’d reached the end of the Grand Line and claimed his title. They ran into each other in the New World, and Roger challenged Whitebeard for the first time when they’d met on the seas. Marco had seen him and his crew on wanted pictures before but had thought nothing of them no matter the number. No one could best them. No one could even stand on even ground. Or so he’d thought.

The hat hadn’t caught his notice, not then, but it had always been the man bearing the hat.

“I hear you’re strong,” Roger said with a grin. Willpower emanated from him, and Marco’s eyes widened: he’d never seen anyone but Whitebeard with that power. Most of their crew crumpled to the force, and Marco stepped forward with a snarl. “Fight me.”

“Oh, brat, you’re going to fight in your captain’s place?” Roger grinned, his eyes fierce and wild, but Marco hadn’t dreamed of backing down. His crew, his father’s honor had been on the line. And he hadn’t had any sense back then either. He turned back to Whitebeard with a grin. “And here I’d finally found some fun.”

“He doesn’t need to waste his time on the likes of you,” Marco said, crossing his arms and smirking. He hadn’t a chance to do more before Whitebeard laid a hand on his shoulder, firm and warm.

“I’ve got this one, son.”

Marco nodded and stepped back reluctantly. He kept an eye on the strange man’s crew, the first mate in particular. Rayleigh stood behind Roger, rolling his eyes, but clearly just as entertained as his captain as Whitebeard stepped forward. Rayleigh caught his eye and _winked_ at him, and Marco was going to enjoy every second of watching the shit kicked out of them.

The air vibrated when the first hit was exchanged, Roger’s sword steady, locked with Whitebeard’s bisento. But that hadn’t been worth noticing, not really. Not when the currents of haki roilling between the two captains had _Marco_ taking a step back with the overwhelming pressure. Very few of either crew was awake, he noticed, and the only one who looked at ease was Rayleigh.

Marco stiffened immediately and held his ground. He would not dishonor Whitebeard by backing down. He wouldn’t be beaten by these losers.

The next wave of power was even more intense, and Marco focused on taking a breath. But he didn’t flinch, and that was what counted.

“Oi, you two, take it easy on the poor kid,” Rayleigh said, and Marco’s eyes narrowed, and he lifted a foot to step forward and show the rude old man how much of a “kid” he was.

“Marco,” Whitebeard said, without looking over his shoulder, and Marco growled under his breath and settled for flipping Rayleigh off. Which of course just made him laugh.

They did lighten up on the haki, which Marco was in equal parts silently grateful for and fuming about. Rayleigh still seemed completely unaffected in a way that really made Marco want to punch his smirking face in. They were the only two upright on either crew, even with the captains settling down their haki, and Marco stole glances at his siblings with amusement.He hoped they stayed asleep long enough for him to draw faces on them after the fight.

The first few strikes were tests, and Roger’s grin grew and grew as they got progressively faster and heavier.

“Not bad at all!” Roger said, one hand up to catch his hat from flying from the force of their blows. “They weren’t lying about you.”

Whitebeard was more stoic, but Marco could tell he was equally thrilled as the blows grew more powerful yet was parried carelessly.

The fight lasted for three days and nights. It would have kept going, Marco was sure, if it weren’t for the untimely arrival (or timely depending on how you looked at it---and Marco did think sleep would be nice at some point) of the marines. He and Rayleigh had ceased glaring (well _he_ had ceased glaring---Rayleigh had never started) and had been playing an epic game of crazy eights (“Poker is too predictable for pirates, and go fish is just ridiculous,” Rayleigh had said. “And don’t even mention war or I will toss you over, I swear.”) for days.

At least Whitebeard was having a blast, and Roger too from the looks of it, and they were not best pleased to be interrupted.

“Such selfish captains,” Rayleigh muttered, watching as the entire fleet of ships was summarily sliced apart and sunk under a tsunami.

Marco sighed. “They could have left us one ship. One card, by the way.”

“Dammit, you can’t beat me at my own game!”

“This hardly counts as a game,” Marco said, and Rayleigh laughed.

“True enough kid. Had to teach you the tame version first, after all. You’re not ready for the real, adult version.”

“I am not a kid!”

“That’s what all the kids say.”

“Oi, Rayleigh, let’s have a party to celebrate our new rivals!” Roger said, and Marco stared at him incredulously. But Whitebeard just laughed.

“I’m not sure that’s a reason to have a party.”

“We’re pirates! Any reason to party is a good reason to party.” Roger frowned and looked around at his crew. “Why is everyone sleeping? Lazy bastards.”

Rayleigh sighed and traded a look with Marco.

“We’d best get everyone up.”

“Wait, first...” Marco ducked insided the mess and grabbed four markers, cups, and a barrel of sake, and grinned as he came out holding up the markers, the others grinning back.

“Oh, I like you, boy,” Roger said, plucking the pink marker out of Marco’s hand and settling the hat more properly on his head as Whitebeard poured the sake. “We’re going to be great rivals, I can tell.”

II.

He’d thought he’d seen the hat for the last time after Roger’s execution was announced, his famous last words ringing in every ear, on every tongue. They were all fools, Marco had thought. None of them stood up to the greatness that was Roger. They could fight, and they could try, but most of them would never have what it took to make it to the New World even, much less where none save Roger’s crew had dared to step.

Whitebeard could have, of course. They all could have together. Could have but didn’t. They didn’t need Roger’s treasure, Roger’s---the world’s---secrets. They had each other, and that was why they sailed.

But the hat came back. Marco thought the hat might always come back, that it was more immortal than he would ever be.

He could have guessed it would be Shanks wearing the hat, if he had known the hat would be back.

Like Roger before him, his ship drew up to theirs, sure and calm. His crew was less so, but Marco could hardly blame them. Shanks might have visited them dozens of times as part of their rival crew, but these new people Shanks had found over the years it took him to get back to the New World, this time with his own crew, they had just heard rumors.

Shanks strode up to Whitebeard’s chair, as bold as brass, and every eye on the Moby Dick settled onto his hat. He must have known, of course, but he made no sign of it, grinning nonchalantly, as yet again their crew bent under the willpower of a man wearing the simple hat.

It was more worn these days, the ribbon was fading from all the time in the sun, but there was no mistaking it. Marco was surprised at how inevitable seeing it again felt. He hadn’t given it much thought, not with everything else. Roger’s words had shaped this new era, and it was right that his hat would take part too.

“I thought it would be polite to let you know you had a new rival,” Shanks said, and Whitebeard snorted.

“Don’t flatter yourself, kid.” Whitebeard said, and they all could hear the trace of grief in his voice.

Shanks’s haki tightened over the ship, but Whitebeard just sighed and waved a hand as if swatting away a fly.

“Marco,” he said, and this time it was an invitation not a warning to stay back, and Marco stepped forward from his place at Whitebeard’s right.

“What I have to deal with the flunky?” Shanks asked. “Captain Roger didn’t have to deal with this.”

“Like you are good enough to challenge Pops,” Marco said, quirking a brow. “And how would you know? You were asleep at the time if I recall. I bet you haven’t even been deemed worthy to learn the adult version of crazy eights yet.”

There was no adult version, Rayleigh had confided with twinkling eyes and a familiar laugh on his last visit, after years of... not begging, per say... but excessive amounts of persuasion. Well, nothing other than teasing easily impressionable brats. Marco was honored to be allowed to continue the tradition with Rayleigh gone into hiding---or dead.

“Wait, he taught you the real version?” Shanks’s jaw dropped comically, and all trace of seriousness melted out of him. Marco just smiled. “Dammit Marco, I need to know! You can’t joke about this. I need bragging rights in case I meet Buggy again.”

“I thought you came to fight?”

“Some things are more important!”

“I thought the Whitebeards were supposed to be our rivals,” Shanks’s first mate said.

“They are!” Shanks said, and Whitebeard laughed.

“It’s a special relationship.” Whitebeard raised a brow at Shanks. “One you’re a hundred years too early for, brat.”

Shanks sighed and drew his sword.

“You think we’ll ever be grown up?” he asked, and Marco laughed, shifting his weight in preparation to block Shanks’s first strike. The air vibrated as he parried, and they shared a grin.

“Where’s the fun in being grown up?”

They fought the now traditional two days, then threw a party the likes of which had never been seen before. Marco was one of the very few to remember the whole of it, and honestly some things he wished he had the luxury of getting drunk enough to forget.

Shanks couldn’t visit like Roger had, not with the other Yonko and the marines poised for any sign of weakness in either crew. Any meetings could also be taken as a possible alliance by people who didn’t understand what rivals were, which would throw the balance of power into chaos.

So it was a bit of a surprise when they caught sight of Shanks’s ship on the horizon. Whitebeard immediately ordered they set a course for it as Marco shooed the more impressionable of the crew below decks before they could all be knocked out. It was almost dark, and with any luck, no one would have to know about this meeting.

Shanks stepped on board, and Marco and Whitebeard immediately shared a look. The hat was gone and with it an arm.

Shanks noticed their glance of course and laughed. “Oh, I have a feeling you’ll be seeing the hat again.” His grin was warm. “I bet my arm on it.”

“Well then, I suppose that calls for a party.”

III.

The first time they had an inkling of what happened to the hat after that was when one morning Ace came crashing into the mess hall in even more of a hurry than usual.

“Guys! Look at this! Luffy’s finally got his own bounty!” Ace waved a paper too fast in front of the table where the commanders were eating with Whitebeard. He turned the paper around to admire it, a proud grin on his lips that had them all grinning. Ace being a responsible older sibling was not something easy to picture for any of them, but the pride spoke for itself.  “It’s a good bounty for him not having left East Blue yet.”

He turned it around and waved it wildly again, and Marco snatched it, rolling his eyes. He held it still, and everyone crowded around to see a picture of the infamous Luffy.

His eyes widened. That grin, that hat... there was no mistaking that, not with the epithet the marines had seen fit to giving him. He met Whitebeard’s eyes and saw the same knowledge there, swallowing down the laughter. Of course it was Ace’s little brother.  

“Yeah, he’s doing great,” Marco managed, and Ace was too excited to notice the stunned faces of those that remembered the hat. “You have quite a little brother.”

“Yeah, he’s going to be King of the Pirates,” Ace said, and Marco grinned. There was really no doubting that, was there?

“I don’t know, Ace.” There was no need to let Ace know that though, not when there was fun to be had. “A little rookie like that?”

The resulting brawl kept them all busy fixing the mess hall under Whitebeard’s eye.

The poster went on Ace’s wall, of course, and Marco would smile to see it. He wondered if someone had shown Shanks yet.

He certainly didn’t expect to see the hat again for the first time in more than ten years on a battlefield. It broke the pattern, for one. Then again, if Roger had just fallen out of the sky one day with an army of people who should _not_ get along, Marco wouldn’t have been surprised.

But this kid was just one surprise after the other. He had the temerity to block Crocodile when he went to strike Whitebeard---as if Crocodile could even scratch Whitebeard---with more creativity than Marco had seen in awhile. The kid couldn’t even use haki, and he had stopped a logia user with _water_.

“Oh so this is Whitebeard?” Luffy asked, and the whole battlefield went silent in confusion. “Ace likes this old man, you can’t lay a hand on him.” He radiated self confidence that suited the hat, and Marco laughed.

“Not bad kid,” he said, but Luffy wasn’t done. Whitebeard told him to scram---really the kid should have known he was far outmatched and water wasn’t going to help with everyone---but Luffy just growled.

“Shut up! That’s not for you to decide!” Everyone was watching now, in shock, in horror, in amusement, as this tiny brat yelled at the strongest man in the world while Whitebeard glared at him. “You want to be Pirate King! I’m the one who’s going to be Pirate King!” The last was shouted so loud the entire battlefield heard, and everyone froze, awaiting Whitebeard’s response.

Marco himself was hard pressed not to laugh. That he was Ace’s little brother and had _that_ hat hanging from a string around his neck should have been enough warning, but this personality was beyond preparing for. Just like Roger, he thought with a grin as Luffy stood with his hands on his hips and a snarl on his face, facing the strongest man in the world as if he had any hope of surviving. He didn’t falter, didn’t even take a step back when Whitebeard started spinning his bisento and set it down so firmly that people on the battlefield far away couldn’t keep their balance.

But Luffy just stared at him, bristling, all defiance and confidence.

Marco and some of the older members might have been the only ones not to be surprised when Whitebeard broke into a grin. “You better not slow me down, you spoiled brat!”

Luffy scoffed and turned back to Ace, who was watching with a combination of pride and horror from the execution stand. “I’m going to do what I want.”

Marco wasn’t surprised to hear Luffy pass along a message as if he and Whitebeard were equals, nor was he surprised that Whitebeard accepted this. This kid might not be ready to stand on this field yet, but it was clear he would be one day.

Still, it wasn’t until they had called for Ace to be executed right then, in front of them all, not until Marco was forced to watch, helpless and bound by seastone, as the blades descended on Ace, watch the acceptance in Ace’s eyes, that Luffy proved himself to be worthy of the hat.

He screamed in defiance and the men between him and his brother crumpled. The executioners dropped like stones, and Marco turned to watch as Luffy ran unknowingly on, not even questioning the sudden dearth of conscious people.

“Was that him?” Marco asked, but he already knew the answer, even with his brain sluggish from the effects of the seastone. Whitebeard called for all of them to support Ace’s little brother, and Marco knew he saw the same thing he did.

Ace might be Roger’s son by blood, but there was no question that Luffy would one day bear the hat with every bit of honor and worth as did the first to wear it.

When it was over, when they had failed, as the tears fell for his father, for Ace, for them all, Marco knew that Whitebeard’s last words had been to spite the marines, had been to honor Roger’s memory, had been to spur the freedom seeking pirates that would tear down the corruption he’d known about ever since the day Roger had told him everything. But most of all they’d been for Luffy.

Because the hat really did suit him, even if he had a bit of growing to do.

IV.

In the two years since that day, Marco had managed to lose much of what was left to him. He’d failed to keep the crew together. He’d failed to take out Teach. He’d lost everything. Strawhat Luffy had been missing since that day. He couldn’t even protect Ace’s little brother, and the hat was gone.

He’d retreated from the world, figuring there was nothing left for him, when a familiar face had shown up.

“What do you want?” he asked Rayleigh, ignoring the more pressing “how did you find me?”. It was Rayleigh, and it was best not to question these things. He signaled the bartender for another cup with a sense of resignation.

“Thought you might not have checked the papers.” A stack was obligingly passed over, and Marco made no move to read them. “Shanks is beside himself.”

Marco sighed and looked down. His eyes widened as he took in the reports from Sabaody and Fishman Island, and the new bounty poster, with the hat front and center as alway. The last merely mentioned an alliance with another rookie.

“He’s alive?” The words were nearly torn from him, and Rayleigh gave him a knowing look.

“Yes, trained him myself.” Rayleigh was grinning proudly. Marco’s chest ached at remembering that same expression on Whitebeard’s face, when he’d learned to fly, when he’d mastered haki. “He’s good, though still inexperienced. He’ll make it.”

“He’s in the New World?” Marco fiddled with the edge of the last report. Being retired was getting pretty boring, and feeling sorry for himself had lost it’s shine long ago. There was never a dull moment when the hat was nearby, after all.

“That idiot’s probably already picked himself a fight with a Yonko by now.” This was said with the proudest grin Marco had seen in a long time and a mock shake of the head. Not for the first time, Marco decided that pirates were probably terrible role models (Shanks still didn’t know the grown up version of crazy eights), but that they were also the best.

He stood up, and Rayleigh looked up at him knowingly.

“I’m sorry, Rayleigh. I have to go. Drinks on me though.” Marco tossed down plenty of change on the bar. “I’ll see you around.”

“Have some fun for me, brat.”

This time around, he would follow the hat and see where it took him.

In the days it took Marco to travel back to the New World, Luffy had managed to wreak havoc on Dressrosa and take down Doflamingo.  

“Kaido, really, brat?” Marco muttered to himself. “You don’t waste time.”

But he hadn’t found him there. No, he’d found Kaido preparing to wipe him off the map, but no sign of Strawhat. Instead, he’d found him on Big Mam’s home island, preparing to challenge her because she’d foolishly stolen one of the members of his crew. He challenged another Yonko knowing full well Kaido was after his head, and Marco grinned when he finally caught sight of the straw hat. It was more scarred than before, dangling off his neck as he faced one of Big Mam’s top fighters.

But it definitely wasn’t dull.

Luffy blinked at him owlishly as Marco landed in front of him and transformed. He was recognizable only by the hat, his body stretched in an impossible way. Cracker immediately looked less confident when he realized who Marco was, but Marco stepped back.

“Don’t you have a fight to deal with, brat?” Marco asked, and Luffy laughed.

“Don’t get in my way!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Marco said with a smile. He watched as Luffy finished off the man, who’d dared question his nakama’s loyalty. What an idiot.

Luffy collapsed, and Marco strode over to him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just takes me a few minutes after using Gear Fourth.” Luffy was panting, and Marco looked him over doubtfully.

“If you say so.” A woman with orange hair swept into the clearing trailing little tendrils of lightning and fury. She paused when she caught sight of Marco, and her hand tightened on her weapon.

“It’s okay, Nami! The pineapple man is our new nakama.” Luffy struggled to get up, but his muscles didn’t seem to work. “Where’s that mean lady?”

“Oi brat, no one said anything about joining you.”

“Why else are you here?” Luffy asked.

“Maybe I’m touring the countryside.”

Luffy laughed breathlessly. “You’re funny!”

Nami smiled warmly at him. “It’s lovely to meet you... Marco, is it? Welcome to the crew.” She waved a hand dismissively, and Marco noticed that her clothes were torn. “And that old hag was no problem.”

Luffy grinned at her. “Of course, she wasn’t.”

“I’m not---I’m just here for an alliance,” Marco interjected.

“That means we’re friends! You're definitely joining my crew, you’re family, and you obviously need taking care of. Ace would want it. And I need a blue bird.”

Luffy actually nodded, like everything was all settled. and Marco wondered why he thought this was a good idea for what he was sure was the first of many times.

“No.”

“Right.” They spoke in unison and both gave him the same smile. Marco kept himself from growling.

“I’m not---” Marco sighed. “So the big wedding everyone’s on about it your friend? You picked a fight with two Yonkos _and_ the Vinsmokes simultaneously?”

“We’re not picking a fight here, we’re being sneaky.” Luffy nodded decisively and started to sit up.

Marco looked at the mostly destroyed forest and in the distance fires burned and the scent of ozone still hung heavy over the area Nami had come from.

He parroted their dismissive “right” back to them, not that they noticed.

“Rayleigh says you know how to play crazy eights.”

Marco’s lips twitched. “I do.”

“Tell me! He and Shanks were meanies and said I wasn’t old enough.”

“Maybe one day, brat.” Marco looked around them. “But last time I saw Shanks he didn’t know it either.”

Luffy’s jaw dropped open. “Rayleigh taught you, but not Shanks? You really are as cool as Ace said, pineapple man.”

Luffy sprung up suddenly. “Yosh, let’s go kick Big Mam’s ass.” He took off his hat, the hat, and he stretched up to place it on top of Marco’s head.

Marco’s eyes widened, and he reached up to clutch at the hat, the hat that had meant so much in his life for all it was worn by their “enemies”. Nami smiled at him knowingly. They both turned back to the coast before Marco finished processing, and he had already started behind them when Luffy’s words sank in.

“Hey, I thought we were sneaking!”

 


End file.
